Walls and Bridges
by itaintmebabe
Summary: I don't know who I am anymore, or what I am. I'm not human. The aftermath of the shooting has changed her more than you'd think.


A/N: This is just a one-shot that's been playing in my brain for a while. R&R.

I'm losing my mind.

Really, I am. I bet you didn't know that, did you? That someone so perfect as me could be slowing falling? Because girls like me simply don't lose control. Girls like Emma Nelson aren't allowed to show pain. We just put on a brave and happy face. Because that's what we do. That's how the world works.

Life goes on. I know now how true it is. Sure, I've heard the expression and I thought I knew what it meant, but I didn't. Not until after the shooting. At first, I expected, I don't know, that time would stop. That everyone in the world would stop what they were doing and cry. That they'd all mourn the loss of a lifestyle.

But you know what? That's not what happens. Like my mom likes to say, "Life doesn't sit back and wait for you to get adjusted. It just happens."

This should not have happened.

I found myself doing the same things that I did the day before, going through the same motions, living the same life. But I couldn't, not really. Every day feels like an old shirt that used to be my favorite, but it doesn't fit anymore. I can remember wearing it and loving the way it felt, but it's just too uncomfortable. That's what my life feels like. I hate my own skin. I want to rip it off, scratch at it with my nails until it's gone. I want to be free. But I can't run away from this feeling, this hot coal of a feeling burning in my stomach. I don't know who I am anymore, or what I am. I'm not human.

My friends and family reach out to me. They tell me that they know how I feel. They don't. J.T keeps trying to make me laugh. I tried smiling once, not the fake smile that I show everyone else, but a real, Emma-smile. It stretched up against my skin, it wobbled and fell. Sean writes to me, did you know that? Every other day he sends me an e-mail. I read them over and over again, until the words have been scrawled across my brain, etched onto the inside of my eyelids. I don't have the courage to write back. Nobody can save me.

Through all the confusion and the tangled emotions in my mind, there was one thought that was always there, consistent and solid. You. At first I was confused, you know? I wondered why I couldn't stop thinking about you. What were you doing in my brain? I was supposed to hate you. But then again, there are a lot of things I'm supposed to do. And now I find that I just don't feel like doing them. I can't keep playing these games forever. I feel like I'm in a play, but I've forgotten all my lines. I'll stare at old pictures for hours, staring at a different version of myself. Someone bright and happy and flawless. I don't know how to be that girl anymore.

But I'll try. I'll smile and laugh and protest and get straight A's and fool everyone but myself. I'll be the girl that everyone needs me to be. I'll be Emma Nelson, brave and beautiful and smart and kind and strong and perfect. And I know that means that I'll have to reject you. But I can't forget the feeling that I belong with you.

I'm really messed up. I know I look okay, but inside I'm really, really messed up.

If this is life, I don't like it. I don't want to live anymore. I don't know how to live anymore. And I can't help thinking, maybe I never did. Maybe this is who I really am, and all this time I've been trying to hide it. But now, everything's changed. I can't hide anymore. I don't know what to do. I don't know anything anymore. All I know is there's a part of me that is dark and cruel and closed-up.

I'm scared. I'm so scared; I don't know how to be anymore. How do you do it? How do you live every day like nothing's changed? Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one who's like this, bleeding inside. Part of me wants to run to my mother and cry and let her hold me, trusting her to make everything right again. But then there's another part of me that knows that there is a difference between the easy thing to do and the thing that I have to do. And I know I have to keep going. I know I can't look back. But I'm not as confident and independent as I used to be. I feel like I've reached my limit. I can't go on alone anymore. I need someone to support me, but I'm too much of a coward to ask for help. It's just easier to hide everything up, to build walls instead of bridges.

Nobody can save me, Jay. Not even you.


End file.
